Invisible
by Thayne M
Summary: What if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was harassing Olivia in the cafeteria? Multi-chap. Wenlivia fluff. R&R appreciated.
1. Olivia

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein._  
><strong>Note:<strong> _This will be a multi-chapter story, eventual Wenlivia. I'm only posting it on this account until my new account clears. So if you see it posted under the account name LessListless (and only LessListless, exactly as I've typed it), don't flame for stealing; that's me over there._**  
>Reviews are SINCERELY APPRECIATED!<br>**

Olivia White was good at being invisible. Being of average height, figure, hair color and eye color, it was all too easy for her to blend in with a crowd, making sure that peoples' eyes skimmed over her guarded frame and never gave her a second thought. When she was young - barely old enough to fully grasp that her mother was gone and her father was imprisoned and, no, living with Gram was not just temporary - she had made a game out of it. "How many times can I make people forget I exist today?" She began to adopt new tricks for it. While other girls her age opted to wear their hair in stylish braids and ponytails, she left hers loose to fall in her face like a curtain, physically separating her from her peers. She stayed in the library, reading books far beyond her age bracket while the other kids chased each other around in circles at recess. She dressed in layers, using each piece of clothing like a shield that would protect her from the rest of the world. She even went so far as faking stomach aches so she could eat her lunch in the nurse's office, instead of forced into a seat between kids that she had no interest in knowing. She was very good at being nobody.

Most people would find this way of living lonely, and depressing. Olivia, on the other hand, didn't mind it. Some days she even enjoyed it. Sure, she got lonely. Sometimes she wished she had a friend that she could have silly, clichéd sleepovers with, or a boyfriend that she could hand-feed potato chips to on the school's front lawn during lunch, but she knew that those relationships were no good for her in the long run. Her mother left her. Her father left her. Whose to say that any other person she let into her life wouldn't just one day decide to be gone, leaving her emotionally invested and devastated without them around.

Needless to say, joining the Mesa High underdog band had gone against her better judgment. Now she was starting to form relationships with these people; they were her - dare she say it - _friends_, and because of them, she was a lot less invisible than what she had grown to be so comfortable with. Not only did _they _see her (and for who she truly was, no less), but other people were starting to take notice as well. People whose radar she'd never wanted to be on. People like Ray Beech, Jules Carter, and Patty Hazel.

All she wanted was something to drink. Turbo Blast wasn't her ideal beverage, but the cafeteria had a bad habit of serving spoiled milk, her water bottle had mysteriously disappeared from her bag on the way to school that morning, and she didn't think she could get to the basement and back for her true desire - some delicious Mel's Lemonade - before the bell rang. So in went her dollar and out came a one-liter bottle of "Caribbean Cruise." Seriously, that was what it was called? What flavor was that, she wondered. As it happened, she didn't get the chance to find out.

"Thanks," a sugary-sweet voice said tauntingly, a perfectly manicured hand reaching out to take the bottle before Olivia could even uncap it. She turned to see Jules waving the bottle in front of her face, "My favorite." Patty and Ray stood on either side of her, and Olivia could tell - by the matching wicked gleams in their eyes and the angle of their bodies - that she was absolutely, most definitely _not_ invisible right now.

Olivia started to reach for the bottle but decided against it - Turbo Blast wasn't worth any kind of battle - and flattened her arms back against her sides. She hoped they would leave it at that, but Ray stepped forward with his trademark faux-sincere expression and asked, "Hey, you're the lead singer of that new band, right?"

_Am I_? Olivia wondered to herself, her brain going a little fuzzy as panic began to take over. Yes, she remembered. She had somehow been roped into agreeing to front a band that was spearheaded by Stella, the new girl that was determined to push peoples' buttons - the exact opposite of Olivia. Why had she agreed? She had to have known it would only bring her trouble. "Yeah," she said faintly, without realizing she'd spoken at all.

"Oh," Ray waved his hands challengingly, "Then why don't you just belt one out for us?"

A few feet away, gathered around a table, Wen looked up and saw the scene unfolding in front of the drink machines. He nodded to Mo and Charlie, gesturing to their friend, and they both stood and started to follow him over. As they drew closer, they could see Olivia squirming, her face painted with her wish to be anyone else, anywhere else. Or better yet, no one, nowhere.

Patty reached out, capturing a tendril of the wavy blonde hair that had once acted as an effective curtain and inspecting it like it was something dirty; something wrong. "Show us what you got," she said, adding to Ray's challenge with a daring little smirk.

"Could you just," Olivia raised her shoulder, brushing Patty off, "_Leave me alone_?"

Sensing a tension so heavy that it was tangible, Mo crossed her arms and stepped forward from Wen and Charlie, voice level and unafraid, "What's going on?"

Jules eagerly stepped up to address her; it was no secret that she had a grudge against Mo for winning Scott's affections. "We're just making small-talk," she said innocently, voice like saccharine.

When Ray turned to Olivia, presumably to say something more, Wen finally voiced himself. "Ray, c'mon bro, just leave her alone."

That was all it took. Ray shifted course, swiveling instead to face Wen with a cocky smirk firmly on his face. "Are you gonna make me?" His eyes danced, like this was the most amusing idea in the world; Wendell Gifford taking on Raymond Beech. It was even more amusing when Wen looked away, licking his lips the way he did when he wasn't sure how to handle a situation.

Ray took a step forward and Mo moved to block his path. "You're being a creep, Ray," she informed him, arms crossed over her chest. He just scoffed, not even bothering to reply, and reached out to move her aside. Then he took one more step until he was almost chest-to-chest with Wen, staring him down, "So if _you're_ not going to make me, who's going to make me?"

Wen said nothing, standing stock still until the jock laughed in his face, turning back around and starting for Olivia. The keyboardist glanced between Mo and Charlie, and he could tell that they were both striving to think of a solution for the current situation as well. One of them could get a teacher, but that would take too long. They could grab Olivia and run, but she didn't look like she could take a single step without crumbling right now. Wen was running through a mental list of ideas when Ray swooped down on Olivia again.

"Now, like I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," there was an edge to Ray's voice now - a subtle threat to it, "Let's hear those pipes, loser." Like Patty had done moments before, he reached out and grabbed a tendril of her blonde hair, giving it a little tug.

Suddenly, the mental list disappeared and Wen was moving forward without thinking. He had no plan, no endgame, no logic. He just knew that this guy - who was about a foot shorter than him, he couldn't help but notice - was bothering his friend. He knew that there were tears in Olivia's eyes. He knew…nothing. Nothing mattered, and nothing made sense. He just needed to get her away from them.

Which in some way justified the way he reached out and clipped Ray, knuckles connecting with his shoulder blade. Wen may not have been an athlete, but between caring for his horse and lifting weights with Charlie in the school gym, he wasn't as weak as Ray obviously thought he was. This was made apparent when the jock spun around, hand flying up to hold his injured shoulder and eyes going wide with shock and anger. He bounced back quickly, though, shooting out both arms to shove Wen, hands hitting him hard on the chest and sending him stumbling backward. He caught himself before he fell and he and Ray charged at each other before both being intercepted by two sets of arms.

"Hey, cool it," Charlie told his bandmate, pushing on his shoulders to hold him back. Wen struggled against him, vision blurred with red and focused only on Ray.

"Seriously," Mo chimed in, holding onto his arm so hard that her nails were cutting into his skin. "Wen, he's a star soccer player and one of Brenigan's golden boys. It's not him that's going to get suspended for fighting."

Charlie nodded, "Then there's no Halloween Bash, no Rising Star- -"

"No Cher," Mo laughed lightly, trying to lighten Wen's mood. It worked. The keyboardist stopped struggling, jabbing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and breathing deeply. His hands were still shaking and he wasn't sure he could put a polite sentence together to save his life, but at least he had stopped.

Across from them, Jules and Patty had a similar hold on Ray, though they seemed to be having a harder time keeping him back. "Ray, you really need to think about this," Patty said, high-pitched and panicked.

"Yeah," Jules agreed, "Best case scenario, you get hurt. Worst case scenario, you get suspended. Either way, you're not playing in the rivalry game this week-end." Ray seemed to consider this for a moment before finally stilling and shaking the girls off.

"Fine, whatever." He tossed a look over his shoulder to Olivia, "We'll talk another time, loser." She visibly gulped and he laughed at this, turning on his heel and starting off in the opposite direction, girls close at his sides. It took everything Wen had to keep from following, but the sight of a shivering Olivia kept him grounded and he moved toward her. Before he could get there, however, Ray seemed to find a second wind. "Oh, but before I forget," he said loudly, catching all parties involved by surprise. He didn't say anything else. He just swung around - too quick to quantify - and landed a harsh sucker punch against Wen's left cheek, sending the taller boy tumbling backward.

"Wen!" Olivia snapped out of her shaken state and instinctively put her arms out to brace Wen's shoulders from behind. Unfortunately he was bigger than she was and they both went sinking to the ground, Olivia in a somewhat dignified sitting position and Wen's torso against hers, limbs splayed out all around him. Ray smiled victoriously and allowed himself to be dragged away by Jules and Patty, leaving the band behind like they were nothing. And to him, they were.

"Ah," Wen hissed, putting his hand to his cheek where a generous patch of flesh was already purpling, "Oh, that hurt way worse than I thought it would." He looked up at Olivia, left eye halfway closed from the pressure of the bruise, but the other wide open and full of concern, "Are you okay?"

"Me?" She might have laughed, under different circumstances. But there was nothing funny about your secret, unrequited crush taking a full-force strike from the captain of the soccer team for you. "Are _you_ okay?"

He shrugged, wincing as he dragged his fingers over the injury, "I'll live." He kept his eyes firmly on her, searching her expression to try and get a read on how she was feeling. She wondered if "visible" was an emotion. She wondered a lot of things, and the conflict translated clearly on her face.

She felt numb. She doubted whether she could move her arms and legs, or if she could say another word. She was abruptly overwhelmed with the full weight of her current lifestyle, and how it was tearing apart the habits she'd spent years perfecting. "Olivia?" Mo reached for her while Charlie helped Wen to his feet, "Seriously, are you okay?"

The singer swallowed roughly and looked up, blinking, not really comprehending her surroundings. "Um," her voice came out as a whisper, and even she could hear the unshed tears in her words. "I don't know."


	2. Wen

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein._  
><strong>Note:<strong> _This will be a multi-chapter story, eventual Wenlivia. I'm only posting it on this account until my new account clears. So if you see it posted under the account name LessListless (and only LessListless, exactly as I've typed it), don't flame for stealing; that's me over there._**  
>Reviews are SINCERELY APPRECIATED!<br>**

Wen couldn't believe what he'd done. Neither could his father, but that didn't stop him from sitting his son down in the nurse's office and, after getting the full story, launching into a tirade. "Are you kidding me, Wen? Listen, I know things have been stressful for you lately, but at some point, I have to stop letting things slide- -"

"Dad, you don't understand!" Wen objected, covering his face with his hands, mindful of the bruise. "I don't even understand," he said, words muffled by his palms. And in truth, he didn't. His new friends were important to him without a doubt, and he would have done the same thing if it had been Mo or Charlie or Stella in Olivia's place (though Stella probably would have called him a chauvinist and insisted she could fight her own battles). But what he'd felt in his chest when he saw the glistening of tears in Olivia's eyes wasn't just a friendly protectiveness; it was something else. The same something he'd felt on the first day of second grade, when she walked in looking so much different than she had the year before - smaller and sadder. Then again, toward the end of fifth grade, when he'd seen her standing in the hallway with her grandmother, a look of helpless confusion on her face. Then in seventh grade when McKenzie Collins shoved her into a trash can, eighth grade when Garrett Yetsy asked her to dance at the middle school graduation party and made fun of her for stepping on his feet, and every other time he'd ever seen her upset since then. He wanted to protect her, but it hadn't been his place until the last few weeks. Though he'd known the girl for most of his life, they'd hardly ever spoken until Stella came along. And now that it was acceptable for Wen to defend her, he intended to, even if he couldn't correctly define his driving force.

His father sighed and sat down, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Then explain it to me as good as you can, bud, because I need to know how to deal with this."

Wen copied his father's sigh and uncovered his face, picking up the ice pack Nurse Hobbes had given him and holding it to his cheek. "I don't know how to explain it. He was just…he was messing with one of my friends, and I had to do something."

"One of your new band friends?" The older man pried, not accusingly, but curiously. He'd met the kids a handful of times already, when they wanted to utilize the acoustics of the Gifford poolhouse, and he'd found them intriguing. They weren't like anyone his son had befriended before; they were a cast of characters, from the outspoken guitarist, to the prim-and-proper bassist, the cluelessly kindhearted drummer, and the painfully shy lead singer.

Wen nodded, "Olivia."

"Ah, Olivia," his father chuckled knowingly, seeming to forget most of his anger at being pulled out of an important meeting to come check on his hot-headed son. Though she was the most soft-spoken of the group, Olivia was the one Mr. Gifford had taken the most notice of. Or, more accurately, he'd taken notice of the way his son's eyes always seemed to follow her - watching her as they practiced, studying her in awe as they wrote together. And though Wen hadn't said anything to him about the girl, he wasn't at all surprised to hear that she was the one he'd been looking out for. "Well, kid," he clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, "I guess I can't be mad at you for protecting a friend. But let's try to not make a habit out of this, okay? I don't like the idea of you fighting."

Wen looked at his father, surprised that he was letting him off the hook, and nodded with a cautious smile, "No problem. Getting punched doesn't feel as cool as it looks in the movies."

"Don't I know it." Mr. Gifford looked around the nurse's office and asked quietly, "So are you suspended, or…" He trailed off, letting his son fill in the rest.

"Nurse Hobbes knows that someone hit me, but I didn't tell her who and I sort of…left out the part about me hitting him first. No," he summed up, "I'm not suspended, but I do have detention for the rest of the week."

"I think that's fair."

Wen rolled his eyes but he couldn't help the smirk that crept up the side of his face. He wasn't grounded, he wasn't suspended, and Olivia was safe; all things considered, he thought he could chalk this day up as a win. Though he wasn't looking forward to facing Olivia - he knew she, too, would ask why he did what he did, but he couldn't explain the way he had to his father.

Mr. Gifford left shortly after one o'clock and the nurse wrote Wen a pass to sixth period. Lucky for him, he didn't have any afternoon classes with any of his bandmates, so he used the time to think of how he would explain himself. _I was just standing up for a friend_, he thought, and it was true. But would they see through him, the way he blinked too much when he wasn't telling the full truth, the way he couldn't meet their eyes? _I was worried about Olivia; she doesn't know how to handle things like that_. That was true as well, but he wasn't sure he could say those words without offending the girl. _I get this indefinable tightness in my chest every time Olivia is in trouble and I wanted to be her knight in shining armor_… Yeah, he could see that one going over _really_ well.

"Wendell," Miss Cruscher tapped on his desk to get his attention in eighth period English, pulling him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped up guiltily, but the teacher was just staring down at him with kind brown eyes. "Hey," she said gently, "Where are you right now?"

"In my head," he mumbled, "Sorry. What did I miss?"

Miss Cruscher smirked and looked around what Wen now realized was an empty classroom. "I'd say about forty-five minutes of my genius teaching skills." She flipped his book shut and put a test review on top of it, "Your friend Olivia had this class fifth period; ask her if you can borrow her notes, and be ready for the test tomorrow."

Wen smiled apologetically, skin tingling at the mention of Olivia's name, and starting shoving things into his bag, hoping he wasn't late for detention. "Thanks, Miss C. I will be." She nodded and he jumped up, tripping over his own long legs and catching himself before he could wipe out, then continued to the basement for the first of four detentions this week.

**hey**, he texted Stella on the way down, **we still doin practice at 430 instead of 330 today?** They'd worked out that detail when he'd been in the nurse's office, waiting for his father, and Stella had been in study hall.

The answer came right before he opened the detention door and surrendered his cell phone to Mrs. Reznik: **No practice today. O cancelled. Seemed upset.** And that's what Wen had to think about for the whole hour. Olivia was so upset - either because of what had happened today, or because of Wen's involvement - that she couldn't even make it to practice. He felt like a jerk, and a failure, a weakling, and about a thousand other self-deprecating things. Most of all, he felt panicked. Olivia had a habit of shutting down when things got too hard - of giving up without really trying. By tomorrow morning, when they had second period Geometry together, she may not even be talking to him anymore. The pain returned to his chest as he buried his head in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking. What could he do?

Stella answered this for him. When detention ended and he collected his phone, there was a text waiting there for him: **Do you think O would be up for working on new lyrics at least?**

Wen tapped his nails against the back of his phone, thinking. Then he sent back, **i'll ask her**, and made a quick pace toward the elevator.

He could have texted Olivia, if he'd thought she would have answered, but he knew she wouldn't. If she was upset, there was no way the reserved girl was going to talk to him, even through text messaging. He remembered her address from the week before, when her bike had a flat tire and she'd bashfully asked if she could carpool with him, and he started walking. It was unbearably hot and he could feel a sunburn layering itself over the already-throbbing bruise on his face, but he didn't stop moving his feet until he was standing in front of Olivia's big red-and-gold house; it was nowhere near as big as his, but somehow, it was monumentally more imposing.

He took his time walking up the steps to the porch, and hesitated when he reached the odd restaurant-style door. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment - maybe he _should_ have texted first, maybe she didn't even want to see him - before finally rapping his knuckles against the cool glass and taking a step back. The door opened almost instantly, like Olivia had been waiting there for him. Judging by the alarmed look on her face, however, she hadn't been.

"Hey," he greeted with his best smile, and it sounded like the lamest thing in the world. _Hey_.

Olivia didn't fall back on the same greeting. Instead, her brow furrowed and she immediately asked, "What are you doing here?" He guessed he had to respect that; she may have been a shy girl, but at least she didn't waste time with muddled niceties.

Any confidence Wen had built up (which wasn't much at all) instantly drained from his body like someone had twisted a spigot in his soul. He wondered how it would look if he ran - just turned on his heels and bolted off of the porch and didn't stop running until he was safe in his own home, hiding in the stables with Lightning and Honey. Probably not very good, he decided, and forced himself to press on. "Stella said I should come by…work on some songs with you." He had to hand it to himself, it was pretty crafty of him. It wasn't the real truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either.

But Olivia didn't seem to buy it completely. Her chin shrank back against her neck and she eyed him carefully before saying, "Oh." It was breathy, reluctant, "Okay." Even though the word could have been taken as an invitation, her tone and the way her body stayed frozen in the doorway said otherwise. It was plain to see that she didn't want him to be there.

Any intelligent person would have taken the cue and excused themselves. There were a million ways to do it: A fake phone call, remembering an appointment, pretending to have a sudden epileptic fit. He didn't have to stay there, darkening her doorway and making her so wholly uncomfortable, but he couldn't get his feet to move. He couldn't make himself leave. "So…" He said leadingly after an awkward beat.

"Oh, right," she sounded so tired, "Yeah, um…" She took a step back and waved her hand, "Come on in." When Wen reached out to hold the door, she started walking ahead of him, into the house. Inside, it was even more imposing than outside. The rooms were open and bright, large but without all of the fancy decorations that most people with such a large house would indulge in. Instead, there was modest furniture and old-fashioned appliances, and framed baby pictures and needlepoints of pithy quotes scattered across the walls.

He took this all in as he followed close behind Olivia, then almost ran into her when she suddenly stopped and spun around. "Actually, you know what?" She still sounded so exhausted, and upon closer inspection, Wen could see that her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was a little puffy and pink. She'd been crying. "I, uh," she cleared her throat, "I'm not really feeling all that well, so maybe we could do this tomorrow or something?"

_Good idea_, the frightened side of him said. He could just go home, get some sleep, and they could start fresh tomorrow. But, as previously observed, tomorrow would probably be too late, and there was no way - after almost ten years of quiet acquaintanceship - he was going to let her go now. "Olivia," he started with a sigh, staring down at his shoes, "I'm not leaving."

She raised her eyebrows, "You're not leaving…my house? Where I live? Where I have more legal rights than you do?" Her voice was harsher than he'd ever heard it, but with a thick undertone of helplessness and sorrow that brought the tightness back into his chest.

"Olivia," he said again, reaching out tentatively to rest a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't brush him off, he blinked heavily and said in his softest voice, "Come on. Talk to me, okay? Tell me what's going on." He could literally feel the tension leaving her body as tears returned to her eyes, but she looked toward the ceiling and blinked them back. He was quiet for a moment, letting her get control of herself, and felt relieved when she met his eyes and nodded.

"Okay," she said quietly, "Not here, though. Out back."


	3. The White House

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein._  
><strong>Note:<strong> _This will be a multi-chapter story, eventual Wenlivia. I'm only posting it on this account until my new account clears. So if you see it posted under the account name LessListless (and only LessListless, exactly as I've typed it), don't flame for stealing; that's me over there._**  
>AN:** _So how are you guys enjoying the story so far? Am I out of character, are things too choppy? I appreciate constructive criticism just as much as praise, so don't be shy! Also, thanks SO much to everyone that has reviewed so far; you make my heart happy. Probably two more chapters to go. Maybe three._**  
>Reviews are SINCERELY APPRECIATED!<strong>

Olivia wished she had a stronger resolve. She'd been so proud of herself for asking Wen to leave, and even managing a snappy remark when he told her he wasn't going anywhere. Then he had to go and shatter that resolve with that soft voice and those pleading blue-green eyes, and his hand on her shoulder. She didn't want to talk - she wanted everything in her life to go back to the way it had been a few weeks ago. But she couldn't stay strong around him; he had this way of making her feel…safe. Safe enough to make herself completely vulnerable. Before she knew it, she was leading him through the house and out the back door (she didn't want Gram to hear and worry even more about her), sitting across from him at the patio table and looking down at her hands. Then a third hand entered her vision, covering both of hers and squeezing lightly before pulling back again.

Wen waited until she looked up, her brown eyes round and wide, before he spoke. "Tell me what's wrong," he prompted gently.

She didn't say anything for a long beat, trying to sort it all out in her head. It was one of those things that wasn't easily explained, it was just felt with every fiber of her being. "I just," she finally started, picking at her fingernails, "Today I felt…like everyone was watching me, you know? Like people suddenly knew who I was."

Wen arched an eyebrow at her, "That's not a bad thing."

"It is for me," she frowned. "Wen, I'm good at being a nobody; I don't know how to deal with people looking at me, and knowing my name, and talking to me or about me. When I was in second grade, after my mom…" Her voice broke a little and she had to clear her throat, "After my mom was gone, there were like three months where everyone knew who I was, because of her, and they were always staring and talking and…" She looked back down at the table and said softly, "I begged my father every night to let me switch schools."

Wen didn't say anything, but he nodded solemnly; he remembered this. He remembered Olivia being different when second grade started, and all the adults exchanging sad murmurs of: "Did you hear about Kathy White?" He remembered the way pitying stares followed the girl, and the harsh rhymes of ignorant schoolchildren. "_Weird Olivia White_," they would sing while jumping rope at recess, "_Her mommy went and died. Now all she does is cry, and eats a lot of pie_." Not the most clever cadence, but Wen recalled it clearly, and the way it sent Olivia (who, adding insult to injury, had been a little chubbier than other kids at that time) inside with tears running down her face more than once.

"Maybe-" He snapped back to the present when Olivia started speaking again, slowly, as if she was working the thought out in her head as she voiced it. "Maybe this was a mistake; I don't think I can do this band thing after all."

His eyes snapped wide open, startled. No, Olivia couldn't quit the band. Forget the fact that they would be nothing without her poignant lyrics and stunningly beautiful voice, but if she quit, what excuse would Wen have to be around her as much as he had been recently? "Why?" He asked, his voice more demanding than he intended and he tried his best to make it gentler, "I know today was bad, but that doesn't mean you can't still be in the band."

She sniffled, rolling her eyes, "Yes it does. Can't you see that? I don't like having peoples' attention! I'm good at being nobody," she repeated, "I _like_ being invisible. And Stella would never let that happen; we haven't even played our first gig and she's already got so much attention on us, I feel like I've got a neon sign hanging over my head everywhere I go." She sighed, pushing back some strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, "I just want to get through the next few years without trouble."

Wen stared at her for a long time before repeating, "You like being invisible."

"Yes," she told him with exasperation.

He stared even longer, making her squirm in her seat a little. "You know," he finally said with a light chuckle, "I don't believe that for one second."

"Then it's a probably a good thing that _you_ don't _have_ to believe it," Olivia shot back coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't like Wen telling her how she did and didn't feel.

"Olivia," he sighed again, but he was at a loss. He didn't know how to properly put it into words, but then he remembered something. His folder. He started rummaging frantically through his messenger bag until he found his ancient binder and flipped it open. Hidden amongst the doodle-filled spiral notebooks and overdue assignments, he found the cardstock folder that he kept his original piano compositions in and plopped it down on the table, his ears turning a little pink. He usually kept the folder hidden for two reasons: 1) He wasn't sure the compositions he came up with on his own were and good, and 2) there were words inked onto every bit of free space on the outside of it. Words that weren't his.

"Look," he jabbed a finger at it, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice. "_This_ is not a girl that likes being invisible."

Despite herself, Olivia couldn't help but be curious, and she craned her neck to read the words scrawled on the folder. _Can you see me?_, they read, _'Cause I'm right here. Can you listen? 'Cause I've been trying to make you notice what it would mean to me to feel like somebody_. Her lyrics, in different marker colors, over and over again. Wen pointed to one sentence in particular, which was underlined with red and bordered with blue and green; apparently, he found this one very important. _I'm so tired of being invisible_. She averted her gaze, because she knew he had a point, but she wasn't going to relent so easily.

"Lyrics don't necessarily have to be a true expression of the writer's life," she defended weakly. Wen just gave her a leveling gaze, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on his, "Seriously, Wen. They're just words." She rubbed her eyes, "I just need to think for a while. Alone," she added pointedly.

Wen licked his lips, not moving for a moment, hoping she might change her mind. When she didn't, he started packing up and stood to leave. She didn't even acknowledge this; she kept her eyes firmly planted on some invisible spot in the distance. "Call me later, if you want to talk," he felt the need to say, even though he knew she didn't have to be told. He'd made it clear that he was there for her, he hoped. He started walking toward the gate that led to the driveway, but stopped when he reached it; he felt like there was something more he should say, but he knew she didn't want to hear it and he wasn't sure what more he could say anyway. So he shoved his tongue back against the inside of his cheek and pushed the gate open, starting the silent walk home.

_Olivia can't quit_! This one thought kept running through his head. If she left, there was no more band. If she left, there was no more chance for greatness. If she left…Wen would be devastated. And he had a feeling that Stella, Mo and Charlie would be too. Though they'd only been hanging out for a few weeks, there seemed to be a special connection between the five of them - like five souls, lost and voiceless, finding each other by some miracle in the middle of an oppressive fog. Before the band came together, all they knew about each other was that Stella was the extreme new girl, Mo was the unobtainable Indian princess, Charlie was the bushy-haired space-case, Wen was the giant-sized music freak, and Olivia was…well, besides Wen, most of them probably never would have been able to pick her out of a crowd, let alone give her an identifier. Now they knew things about each other. Things like the fact that Stella, for all her drive and intellect, struggled in her classes but was ashamed to ask her parents for study help. Or that all the rhythm in the world couldn't make Charlie coordinated enough for sports, Mo was constantly obsessing over whether or not her feet were too big for her body, and Olivia had a mild Lucile Ball obsession. They were friends - true, loyal friends - that cared about each other.

That's when Wen realized his mistake. Not one that he'd made out loud, but one inside of his head that had made him handle this whole situation the wrong way. Halfway home, in the middle of the crosswalk at a busy intersection, he stopped dead in his tracks. The orange hand was flashing a warning at him in the distance and cars had started honking, but instead of hurrying across to the closer side of the road, he turned and ran back the way he came. He kept running - sun pounding on his arms, bruise pulsating under his eye, legs screaming at him to stop - until he was back outside of the red and gold house.

"Wendell, dear!" Brenda White sounded as surprised as she looked when she opened the door for him. He knew how he must look right now, doubled over and out of breath, face a multitude of colors and covered with sweat, eyes big and frantic; he probably looked like he was having a heart attack. "Did you forget something?" She looked around, as if she was expecting to find a book that wasn't theirs, or perhaps a keyboard.

Behind her, Wen spotted Olivia coming down the stairs. She paused halfway, hand stilling on her banister and brow furrowed in confusion. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. Wen launched straight into it. "I made a mistake."

For a moment, Brenda seemed to think he was still talking to her. A quick glance over her shoulder told her otherwise, but she stayed standing in the doorway, letting the boy talk over her shoulder. She couldn't help herself; she'd been very curious about her granddaughter's relationship with him lately, but trying to get answers from Olivia was like pulling teeth…out of the mouth of a grizzly bear. "What mistake?" She heard her granddaughter ask, so quiet that it was almost a whisper, but Wen seemed to hear her just fine. Like Brenda, it seemed he'd grown accustom to straining his ears to hear the girl's near-inaudible voice.

"When you told me you were thinking about quitting the band," Wen said the words in a rush, like there was too much to waste time breathing between them, "All I could think about what how much that would suck for us. How we wouldn't be good without you, and how I'd be miserable if our group didn't get to hang out for a couple of hours every day. And I think that a part of me was actually a little bit mad at you, because of what you'd be doing to us if you decided to leave."

Olivia's face went red with guilt and she looked away from him. Wen saw this and hurried on, "No, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I promise. I was walking home and I was thinking about it - about how we've all become friends since that day in detention - and I realized that I was being selfish. I was over here, trying to talk you out of quitting and telling you that you don't feel what you say you feel, because _I_ was afraid of losing this great thing we've all got going. But what I really should have been afraid of," he finally took a breath, then said slowly, "Was you being unhappy."

The girl finally looked back at him, expression open and vulnerable. She resumed walking and, once at the bottom of the stairs, came to stand behind her grandmother, listening wordlessly as Wen went on. "The band brought us together - we became friends because of it - that much is true. But now that we're friends, _that's_ all that matters. If you quit right this second and the band was over, we wouldn't stop being friends, and I should have realized that before. This friendship is the most important thing, and I think the others would agree with me on that. If getting a lot of attention makes you uncomfortable, or if singing onstage scares you, then forget it; we don't want you to be miserable just so we can be in the spotlight for five minutes. We - _I_ - just want you to be happy."

Brenda's hand fluttered up to her chest, covering her heart and fixing Wen with an adoring gaze. As for Olivia, she was speechless. She'd never been a big-talker in the first place, but now she was literally _speechless_. She just stared at Wen, mouth hanging open slightly, fingers shaking so severely that she had to clasp her hands together behind her back.

There was an awkward pause, no one sure of what to say next, eventually broken by Wen. He gave both women an unsure grin and said, "Whatever you decide, we're behind you completely. Nothing's going to change between the five of us - I can guarantee that - so don't let us affect your decision. Just give us a call when you know what you want to do." That was meant to be it, but he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Oh, and for whatever it's worth…you've never been invisible to me." With that, he hitched up his bag and hopped off of the porch. This time, he only walked a block or two before realizing he was both physically _and_ mentally exhausted, and he just couldn't muster up the energy required to walk back to his house. So he plopped himself down in a little coffee shop and dialed his father's number, asking for a ride. He couldn't even be annoyed when he sent Sydney instead; he spent the entire drive staring out the window, making absent noises to appease the chattering woman while his thoughts stayed only on Olivia.

"Wen," a voice whispered. When they'd gotten home the night before, the keyboardist had gone straight to his room and flopped down on his bed, falling asleep within seconds. He must have slept straight through dinner and the traditional Tuesday night movie, because his bedside clock read 7:13AM when his little sister woke him. "Dad says you better get up 'cause we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

He groaned, his face searing with pain when he attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Thanks, Georgie," he yawned, and that hurt a little too, "I'll be down in a minute; will you grab me a muffin?"

"Sure." After a moment, however, the little girl still hadn't moved. Wen fixed her with a questioning look and she asked carefully, "What happened to your face?"

He sniffed and sat up in bed, touching the bruise carefully, "I got into a fight. Don't ever get into a fight," he added in a warning big-brother tone, "It's stupid and dangerous."

"Then how come you did it?"

He wasn't sure how to answer this. He'd done it to help a friend, which was probably the only good reason to get into a fight, but the desire to be a good influence on his sister wouldn't allow him to give this explanation. Luckily, his phone chose that moment to chime loudly, alerting him to a new text message. Georgie seemed to be distracted by it as well, reaching to get the phone from his dresser and handing it to him. "Thank you," he said again, stretching out his leg to give her a little kick on the butt, "Now get out of here so I can get dressed."

"'Kay!" She started skipping toward the door, pulling it shut behind her.

"And don't forget my muffin!" He called after her before tossing his blanket off and standing, stretching his arms and legs before opening the new text. Part of him hoped it was Olivia, just to hear from her, but another part hoped it was anyone else, so he wouldn't have to start his day off knowing that the band was history. The latter wish was granted, and he found a text from Stella. She either felt very strongly about this particular message or she hadn't been paying attention to her Shift key, because it was in all caps:

**M C W - LUNCH IN MRS R'S ROOM. URGENT BAND MEETING. NAME & NEW SONG. BE ON TIME, BRING LEMONADE. - S**

Wen wasn't too worried about the message itself - Stella was pretty intense about _everything_, so this was nothing new - but he did find it a little disheartening that it was only addressed to Mo, Charlie and himself. She'd really done it, hadn't she? Olivia had quit.


	4. Subterranean

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein._  
><strong>Note:<strong> _This will be a multi-chapter story, eventual Wenlivia. I'm only posting it on this account until my new account clears. So if you see it posted under the account name LessListless (and only LessListless, exactly as I've typed it), don't flame for stealing; that's me over there._**  
>AN:**_ I'm not very good about replying to reviews (I don't get online all that much; just a few minutes to update my stories and check my e-mail), but I want you guys to know that I read them all and I appreciate them VERY much. Thanks for all your kind words so far, and I hope you keep reviewing!_**  
>Reviews are SINCERELY APPRECIATED!<strong>

"Ouch!" It was the first thing Wen heard when he walked - head down and steps heavy - into Mrs. Reznik's room at 11:15. He looked up to see Stella licking the back of her hand, where a guitar string had snapped and cut her. Even though it had happened a few times since they all started playing together (she got a little too into her solos), it seemed ominous today. Like the build-up to the inevitable break. He collapsed into the desk between Mo and Charlie and immediately crossed his arms an the surface, resting his chin on them.

This was how his day had been so far: Him trudging from class to class with a hangdog expression, not paying attention to anything or anyone. The most attentive he'd been was during the first ten minutes of Geometry, listening closely to roll call and watching the door. Olivia didn't make an appearance. After that, every last thread of hope he'd been gripping slipped from his grasp and he shut down. He considered calling his dad to sign him out sick for the rest of the day, but he knew that Stella - who'd seen him clearly during passing time - would show up at his house and throttle him if he missed a band meeting. Not that a band meeting was worth much of anything without Olivia around.

"Why are we here, Stella?" He grumbled from his current position.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "What do you mean? It's a band meeting." She reached over her guitar to a veggie sandwich, taking a big bite and talking around the food, "Weh haff a name now, an' I fink weh haff ouw opening song fow da Hawoween Bash."

"Oh man," Charlie smacked his hands down on his desk, smiling his trademark ear-to-ear smile, "The name, it's perfect. Wen, you should have seen it; it was _classic_." He proceeded to launch into a story about the previous afternoon, when he and Mo told Stella the exact details of what had happened during lunch. Apparently, Stella reacted about as well as Wen had to the situation and immediately went off in search of the Mudslide Crush frontman. Armed with a can of Mel's, she'd found him sitting on the back bumper of someone's rusty old Jeep, mid-laugh, and without a single word she'd spat a mouthful of the beverage in his face. She'd practically started a riot - her, Mo and Charlie against Ray, Patty and Dean Eagler - by the time Brenigan showed up and demanded to know what the fuss was about. Everyone had been yelling their explanations, but above it all, they' heard Ray say something about "lemonade mouth over here," and thus the brilliant band name was born.

_Yeah yeah yeah whatever_, was all Wen could think as the drummer finished this story. He hadn't moved from his slumped position over the desk, and when he showed no enthusiasm for the name, all three of his friends fixed him with a prodding stare. He glanced between them and blinked a few times, trying to figure this all out in his head. "What are you guys _talking_ about?" He finally demanded, "A name, a new song? What good are those going to do us now?"

Now it was their turn to blink at him. "What are _you_ talking about?" Stella asked.

This was starting to aggravate him. It was hard enough knowing that Olivia was gone - now they had to talk about it? "Well, we can't really do this if Olivia- -"

"I'm sorry!" A voice practically shouted as the music room door swung open, "I had to stop in and pick up the assignments from my morning classes." Wen couldn't believe his eyes. It was Olivia who came stumbling through the door, juggling her backpack, a few schoolbooks, and a can of lemonade. Olivia. She was here. He felt the same way he had when he was nine and lost control of his bike while riding down Addison Hill; that feeling of certain doom, and then that bolt of adrenaline when he realized he wasn't going to die today after all. Realizing that he got to keep living his life.

The singer seemed to distract everyone from whatever Wen had been about to say, and Mo hopped up to take her books so she could settle into a seat without dropping anything. "I missed you in Bio," she told her with a sigh, "Mr. Nagy made us watch that stupid cartoon-y movie about recessive genes again."

"Sorry," Olivia apologized again, unzipping her backpack and digging in for something, "Gram let me skip this morning so I could finish some lyrics."

"How did you manage that?" Charlie laughed, "My parents would have grounded me for even asking."

She sighed, extracting a binder from the bad and setting it on her desk, along with a package of snack cakes. "I had to promise that I would stop skipping classes to read in the janitor's closet." They all laughed, except for Wen, who was now sitting straight up and staring at the blonde girl. She seemed so perfectly happy and at ease with the group that it was almost as if the day before had never happened, save for the fact that she wouldn't look back at him. In fact, she was doing everything she could to _avoid_ looking at him.

"Did Stella tell you about the band name yet?" Mo asked with a little giggle.

Olivia nodded, smiling, "Yeah, she told me when I was at her house last night; I love it. It suits us." At her house last night? Wen looked around wildly; what was going on? Why was everybody else suddenly in on something and he was the odd man out? Did Olivia still want to be in the band? He had a million questions and no ability to voice any of them. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish while the rest of them carried on, oblivious to his confusion.

Stella, who'd been working on replacing her snapped chord through all of this, started tuning her guitar and asked, "So do we want to eat first, or go over the new song first? Either way, Mrs. Reznik said she could write us a pass for our next class."

Olivia looked at her cakes, then at her binder before deciding, "Let's do the song first, I guess." Wen noticed the slightest blush rising on her neck, but he couldn't imagine why. Sure, she sometimes got bashful about her lyrics, but ultimately she was always confident in them.

Stella clapped her hands and grabbed her own binder, pulling out some handwritten sheet music, "I was hoping you'd say that; I was up all night after you left. I got a lot of the faster stuff down, but I thought that, instead of acoustic guitar at the beginning, we could just have the keyboard. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about playing and singing at the same time." She was talking a mile a minute as she flipped through her papers, and Wen still had no idea what was going on, other than he was apparently going to be playing something at the beginning of a mysterious new song. "Here you go, Wen," she suddenly smacked a sheet of paper down in front of him, then passed two more to Mo and Charlie. Wen studied his, mentally playing the opening keys in his head as he read them from the sheet. It sounded sad. _Please don't be a goodbye song_, he mentally begged, _Please don't be a goodbye song_.

"Hm," Mo hummed thoughtfully as she looked over her own paper, "Okay, let's give it a shot." She stood from her desk and started over to the little practice area Mrs. Reznik had set up for them after their first impromptu performance together. The others followed quickly, but Wen took his time in getting out of his seat and making his way to his keyboard. He was still skeptical about this song and the situation, and nervous over the fact that Olivia still hadn't so much as glanced in his direction, even though she was acting normal toward the others.

"Get the lead out, Wen," Stella snapped her fingers as she hooked in to her amp. He scowled at her, but picked up the pace nonetheless, circling around and planting himself behind the keys. He set the paper on his music stand and studied the keys, trying to memorize them before they started. _C-C-E-D-E_, he noted, his fingers trailing just above the keys without actually playing them, _A-A-C-B-C, F-F-A-A-G-F_. Yeah, it still sounded sad.

"I think I've got it," Charlie said a moment later, from behind his drums. He and Mo had been doing the same thing as Wen - hearing the music in their heads before playing it out loud. When Mo nodded to second this statement, Stella looked over her shoulder at Wen. He shot a look at Olivia, but her back - stiff and obviously nervous - stayed to him. He let out an inaudible sigh and started playing.

After a beat, Olivia inhaled and it echoed through her microphone, and then she started singing. It was as pure and beautiful as it had ever been, but there was something different to her voice; something more stripped and exposed. "_Tryin' hard to fight these tears_," she sang, slow and deep, "_I'm crazy worried. Messin' with my head, this fear - I'm so sorry_." There it was. To Wen, that was the kiss of death; that really made this her goodbye song. He wanted to give up right then - wanted to stop playing, throw up his hands, and leave - but he couldn't bring himself to cut her off. If this was going to be a goodbye, he was at least going to hear it all the way through.

"_Ya know, you gotta get it out; I can take it. That's what bein' friends' about_." And finally, she glanced over her shoulder at Wen, her expression unreadable, but there was something comforting there. Something that drove him forward as the song picked up in a sudden, excited beat. "_I_," she swung around, blonde hair flying across her face, "_I wanna cry; I can't deny, tonight I wanna up and hide. And yet inside, it isn't right; I gotta live in my life. I know I, I know I, I know I gotta do it. I know I, I know I, I know I gotta do it_."

Wen was so happy that he could have cried; this wasn't a song to say goodbye with. This was a song to get _empowered_ with. This was Olivia's battle cry, and it was amazing. "_Gotta turn the world into your dance floor_," she sang the chorus with so much gusto that it seemed to make every surface in the room shake. "_Determinate, determinate. Push until you can't and then demand more. Determinate, determinate. You and me together, we can make it better; gotta turn the world into your dance floor. Determinate, determinate_."

As the keyboardist played along, it hit him that the reason Olivia wouldn't look at him before was because these lyrics seemed to be a direct response to everything he'd said to her the previous day. "_Hate to feel this way and waste a day; I gotta get myself onstage. I shouldn't wait or be afraid; the chips will fall where they may_." She sang through the pre-chorus and chorus again, getting into it and jumping around, coming up with her own little dance moves before they all ran out of sheet music and stopped playing.

Olivia stilled and was silent for a moment before clearing her throat and turning to face the band, "I'm not sure what to put in the bridge yet, sorry. I'll try to come up with something fun."

"Don't be sorry," Mo laughed, a huge smile on her face, "That was amazing. You wrote all of that in a day?" Olivia nodded and the Indian girl's hands fell from her bass to clap a few times, "Wow."

"Seriously," Charlie agreed, "It gave me chills."

Stella smirked, "Now you see why I said we have our opening number for the Halloween Bash?"

"I think I could fill in the bridge." The sentence came out so loud and sudden that it took Wen a minute to realize that he'd been the one who said it, and another minute to come up with an elaboration. By that time, his bandmates (which, he was happy to find, included Olivia) were all staring at him like he'd lost his mind. "I just mean," he could feel his ears heating up, "I have an idea for something. Maybe we could," he said to Olivia carefully, "Work on it after school?"

It was a little daring, he had to admit. Considering how their Alone Time had gone the day before, he wasn't sure she ever wanted to be alone with him again, but he had to try. He had to have the chance to tell her, in private, what he thought of this new song that spoke volumes about her and, as it turned out, of him as well.

Olivia studied him briefly and then, to his amazement, she smiled and said, "Sure. I have to take a make-up test after school, but I should be done by three-thirty."

"I'll meet you outside," he told her, unable to keep back the beaming smile that snuck across his face. The band talked for a few minutes about the new song before running through it again, then rehearsing a few other songs before Mrs. Reznik came back from her lunch break and told them to start packing it in so they weren't _too_ late for fifth period.


	5. My Girls

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> _I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein_.**  
>Special Note:<strong> _I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to post; I just couldn't get it right. It still doesn't feel completely right to me, but you guys be the judge. The next chapter will be the last one, and I want to hear what you guys have to say about how it ends: Wenlivia fluff moment, or Wenlivia smooch? __**Leave a review**__ and don't forget to __**cast your vote**__!  
><em>**REVIEWS ARE SINCERELY APPRECIATED!** ..._Oh, and the lyrics in this chapter are from "In The Summertime," by Adam Hicks & Daniel Curtis Lee.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Yeah, Dad," Wen said absently into his phone as a few kids ran past. It was just after three-thirty and he was waiting outside of the high school, sitting under a wide bur oak to escape some of the sun's rays. "I can pick Georgie up; I'll leave here as soon as Olivia gets done with her make-up test."<p>

"Oh, Wen," his father sighed on the other end of the line, "I didn't know you had plans with Olivia. I wish I could get out this meeting, but-"

"Dad, I said it's fine," Wen interrupted, "It's not a problem." And he was telling the truth. He'd spent all of his afternoon classes trying to think of 1) what he was actually going to say to Olivia about the song she'd written, and 2) what his idea for the bridge was. He'd been lying when he said he thought he could fill it in, so desperate for an excuse to spend time with her, and now he was grasping for straws. Piano solo? Thirty seconds of gospel-esque vocalization? Dubstep breakdown? After four classes, he still had nothing. He hoped that having Georgie around would offer enough of a distraction - she and Olivia had a mutual fascination with each other - that he might be able to scrape by with the skin of his teeth. It would be so easy, he imagined, for him to screw everything up again. He couldn't let that happen.

His father sighed, relieved, and his smile was almost audible, "Thanks, bud; dinner's your choice tonight. Invite Olivia, if you want."

"Cool…" Wen trailed off as he heard the heavy front door of the school bang shut and he turned to see said singer standing outside, looking around. Looking for him. His chest got so tight that he thought he might be having a heart attack, and he mumbled a quick "sounds great, talk to you later, bye" into his phone and shoved it into his backpack, leaping to his feet. He grabbed the three cans of Mel's that had been sitting next to him and called out, "Olivia!" When she turned, he tossed her one, remembering too late that she, like Charlie, wasn't known for her coordination. Luckily, her hand shot out on reflex and caught the can before it could bean her in the forehead, though her eyes still went wide with alarm.

"Hey!" She called out defensively, "I know I took a few minutes longer than I said I would, but that's no need to throw things at me." Then she cracked a smile and just like that, she was the old Olivia again. Or, at least, the one she'd been for the past couple of weeks as they all got to know each other.

Wen grinned apologetically, "I probably could have given you a better warning, I guess."

She shrugged, looking down at her foot as she pushed a pebble around with her toe. "So," she said slowly, "Where are we headed?"

He cracked open his can of lemonade and shook the third, "First I have to go pick Georgie up and watch her until five. Is that okay?"

Olivia nodded, smiling again, "Sure. You know I love Georgie." _Yes. Yes I do_, he mentally applauded himself. "In that case, we could go to the park," she went on to suggest, "She could play and we could work at one of the picnic tables." Wen agreed to this and went with her to collect her bike, taking the handlebars to wheel it along as they started away from the high school. Olivia thanked him with a shy little nod and watched her feet as they walked, and Wen desperately wished he could hear her thoughts. He knew she wasn't mad at him - after all, she was here, wasn't she? - but he didn't know much besides that. Had he crossed a line the day before, revealing too much of his feelings for her? _Feelings for her_, he noted to himself, _Is that what these are_? Well, they must be, he decided. There was no other way to explain the elephant on his chest, the warmth to his hands, the way he couldn't form coherent thoughts whenever she got just a little too close. All at once, he felt terribly awkward and unsure of himself. Though he must have known all along that there had to be more to their relationship than innocent friendship on his part, the official realization hit him like a high tide, bowling him over and flooding his senses. Was his face red? It felt like his entire body was on fire.

If he thought he had a million questions when Olivia showed up in Mrs. Reznik's room for lunch, now they were infinite. What if she didn't have feelings for him? What if the things he'd said the day before made her uncomfortable around him? What if they were doomed to an awkward acquaintanceship for the rest of their lives? Had he ruined everything?

"You're being pretty quiet," Olivia said softly after a few long minutes of silent walking. Wen finally snapped out of his thoughts and realized they were almost to the elementary school already.

"Sorry," he tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a hacking sound. _You're so cool_, his inner-voice told him sarcastically, _It's a wonder you're not beating girls off with a stick_.

There was a pause before Olivia asked, "Something on your mind?"

Only about a million things, but he couldn't tell her that. Fortunately, he didn't have to. As soon as they were in view of the school, a little girl with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and two missing teeth came bounding toward them from the front steps, all smiles. "Wen! Oh my gosh, you brought Olivia! Hi, Olivia!" When she reached them, she threw her arms around the older girl's waist and bounced a little.

Olivia laughed, hugging her back, "Hey, Georgie-porgie!"

"What, I don't get a hug?" Wen feigned offense until the little girl gave him a patient look and went to wrap her arms around him. He gave her a squeeze, lifting her off the ground, and then handed her the third can of Mel's, "There ya go. Do you mind hanging out with us at the park until Dad gets off work?"

By the look on her face, this was Georgie's idea of heaven and she shook her head frantically, "I don't mind at all!" She smiled her big gappy smile at him and took a big swig of the lemonade - it was funny that, before that day in detention, Wen himself had never even had a can of Mel's. Now he had his little sister as addicted to the beverage as he and the rest of the band were. It had become a regular thing for Georgie to pass two quarters to him every morning before school, asking him to bring her a can when he came home.

"Okay, but we can't play with you too much," Olivia said, taking the little girl's free hand in hers as they started walking, "Your brother and I have to work on a new song."

"I won't bother you, I promise," the little girl insisted, swinging their joined hands and taking another gulp of her drink. She started skipping and humming the tune to "Somebody" - she often hung around during band practices and had chosen it as her "most favoritest song ever in the history of the world" - and looked between the two older kids with a confused expression when they both seemed to go pink in the face. "What?" She demanded with a pout, mistaking their reactions for an insult, "Wen hums it all the time and I'm a better hummer than him, my daddy said so!" Wen blushed even deeper, ducking his head and pushing the bike a little faster, putting himself a foot ahead of them. Behind them, he could have sworn he heard Olivia giggle.

Once they got to the park, they spent a few minutes listening to Georgie talk about the iguana Tommy Feldership had brought in for Show & Tell and how it had been as long as her arm and had "seriously for real tried to eat Mandy Sun's finger." Then she bounced away to claim one of the higher-sitting seats on the swing-set and started pumping her legs back and forth, leaving Wen and Olivia to awkwardly shuffle papers around on a graffiti'd picnic table. As he'd tried and failed miserably to come up with a bridge, Wen had at least managed to revise some of the piano music and Olivia had changed the pitch and measures of some of the lyrics. They played around with these for a while, all business, until there was nothing left to distract themselves with. Wen spent a few moments staring hard at his sister, trying to tap into some dormant telepathic sibling bond and draw her back to the table, but if she felt his desperate thoughts, she didn't acknowledge them; she just kept swinging back and forth, giggling madly when her toes skimmed the leaves of a tree branch.

There was no other way of putting it off, so he gathered his wavering courage, shook his hands out under the table, and sucked in a deep breath.

"I, um," he cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the tabletop doodle of Marvin the Martian, "I really like these new lyrics."

"Thanks," she said absently, the way she always did when someone complimented her lyrics. There was always a heavy tone of modesty, like she was trying not to contradict them and criticize herself.

Wen licked his lips, allowing himself a quick glance at her; she was bent over her notebook, pretending to write though he was sure she was just sketching in the margins or retracing over words to make their lines thicker and darker. "No, I mean…they're really great."

She finally looked up, as if sensing his change in mood, and paused for a moment before offering a little grin, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he affirmed, looking back down at Marvin. "Actually, more than great; they're incredible." He heard her shift in her seat and continued on, "They're…powerful. And very you."

"Very me?" She laughed lightly.

He nodded with a tiny smile, "Probably more you than all of your other songs combined; it really shows what kind of person you are."

Another laugh, "And what kind of person is that?"

Again, Wen looked up at her only to find her staring back. The minute their eyes locked, the intensity was so overwhelming that Wen wanted to look away, but he couldn't. She was too mesmerizing; how had he never noticed that before? "The kind of person," he said slowly, finding it a little difficult to form thoughts when her big chocolate brown eyes were pouring into his, "That pushes through even when she's terrified. A very, very," he swallowed roughly; why wouldn't she break their gaze? "Strong person. Stronger than maybe even _she_ knows."

Olivia blinked at him for a few minutes before shaking her head and looking away, "I wouldn't say 'strong.' You're the one that gave me the pep talk yesterday, remember?" It was the first time either of them had mentioned the previous day's events and Olivia seemed to realize this, blush creeping around her neck.

Wen cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to agree, but stopped short. Yes, he'd been the one that showed up at her house, begging her to stay in the band. Yes, he'd been the one who recanted that plea and told her to do what made her happy. Yes, he'd been one who rattled on about friendship until he was red in the face. But even still, he couldn't take credit for this. "Honestly, it had nothing to do with me," he heard himself say, though he hadn't fully formed the words in his mind. He was speaking on automation, which could either end in glory or disaster. "I mean, okay, yeah, I gave you a pep talk, if you want to put it that way. But I also gave you an out," he reminded her, "I told you that you could be done with the band and we'd all understand and we'd still lo-uh, want to be your friend." He scratched his head, trying to cover up his embarrassment over almost dropping the l-word on her. "You're the one," he concluded softly, "That decided to stick with us. You could have backed out scot-free and it would have been easier, but you didn't choose easy."

Olivia continued to gaze at him, expressionless but with a ghost of a smile across her features. "What did I choose then?"

Wen considered this, then shrugged, "I like to think that you chose happy, even if it's a little more stressful."

Finally, she looked away, but there was a smile on her face as she reached for the last gulp of her lemonade. "Wow, Wen," she laughed quietly into the can, "That was very…inspiring."

"More like inspir_ed_," he mumbled with a grin before he realized what he was saying. Once he did, his eyes widened a little and he added, "You can just say it; I sound like a fortune cookie."

"Oh, you totally sound like a fortune cookie," Olivia immediately agreed with a big laugh that lit up her entire face. Wen felt the skin on his arm raise as the delightful sound reached his ears, and he couldn't help but laugh too. Soon they were both doubled over, holding their stomachs and laughing like idiots until they were almost purple and Georgie came running back from the swing-set.

"Hey!" She waved her hands around to get their attention, "What're you guys laughing about?"

Wen snorted and Olivia reached up to wipe a stray tear from beneath her eye, telling the little girl, "Nothing really, Georgie-porgie; it wasn't all that funny."

"Then how come you're laughing so loud?"

The older girl shrugged, still smiling, "Sometimes it's just what people do. They laugh because they need to laugh."

Wen nodded in agreement, "You'll see when you get older."

Georgie eyed them both skeptically, clearly preferring to believe that they were either lying to her or they'd both lost their minds. Then she put her hands on her hips and said in a very parental voice, "Aren't you guys s'posed to be _working_ on something?"

Olivia's lips tugged to the side guiltily, and Wen couldn't help but watch them - the way they pressed together and curled up in an ashamed sort of pout. _Get a grip on yourself, bro_, he mentally berated himself. "You're right." He tried not to focus on her lips as they said these words. "We really do have to get working on that."

Wen reached down to tug his laptop out of his bag, his own share of guilt settling over him. "Um, I have a confession," he told her as he booted the computer up and opened VirtualPiano, "I have _no_ idea what to fill the bridge in with."

She gave him a look of surprise before her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to say something. Before she got the chance, however, Georgie asked, "You're filling up a bridge?"

Her big brother couldn't help but laugh, "Not like a car bridge. In music, a bridge is the contrasting standout-" Seeing that he was already losing her, he simplified it to, "It's sort of like the big finish, and sounds different from the rest of the song."

"Something fun and special," Olivia added helpfully.

"Ooh," Georgie nodded slowly as she began to grasp the idea. Then, like she had a bright idea, she snapped her fingers and pointed at Wen, "Use one of your mixes!"

The way a dark red rose steadily from Wen's neck to his hairline, he looked like a cartoon character who'd just been duped into eating a habanera pepper. Intrigued, Olivia asked, "Your mixes? What are your mixes?"

"That's what he calls them," Georgie explained for her brother, plopping down on his lap so she could start messing around on his computer. "He says…what d'you say, Wen?…like, putting together John Rahs like old people music and rap. Here!" She squealed, clicking a button and slapping Wen's hand away when he tried to stop her. There were a few beats of static before a soft, classical-sounding piano started, then fused with something more synthesized, and then:

"_You see, that summertime healin' got me feelin' like a million  
>See the faces of the children as emotions hit the ceilin'<br>All the water that I'm spillin' as I'm chillin' like a villain  
>If you feelin' what I'm givin' then you need to admit it<em>"

Wen finally managed to sneak a hand past Georgie and hit the stop button, successfully the shade of a ripe tomato now, and scowled at his little sister. "Jeez, Georgie, ever heard of boundaries?"

"No," the little girl said innocently, making her blue eyes open as wide as they could go, "What's boundaries?"

"Wen," Olivia said with a stunned, breathless laugh, "Wa-was that _you_…_rapping_?" In response, he just ducked his head. The singer covered her mouth with her hands to cover her uncontrollable smile, "That would be _perfect _for the bridge!"

Suddenly, she had the keyboardist's full attention. "Huh?"

"You're so good," she almost squealed, like she couldn't believe it. He didn't blame her; not many people would believe that a scrawny redheaded kid like him could rap. "Do you think you could come up with a rap for the bridge?"

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head, "Nah. I mean, the lyrics are all deep and inspiring and I just-"

"It doesn't have to be a State of the Union address, Wen," Olivia laughed. "It just needs to be something fun; something that reflects the band." He still didn't look convinced, so she added, "We trust you."

Still planted on his lap, Georgie turned around and smiled, eyebrows raised in a my-idea-was-a-good-idea fashion. Her brother wrapped one arm around her stomach in a half-hug and rested his chin on the top of her head, thinking. "I guess," he mumbled, "I could try to figure something out."

As soon as the words left his lips, both girls started clapping and cheering, loud enough to attract the attention of a family sitting on another bench nearby. Despite himself, Wen smiled at the scene before him - the girl he loved most in the world, and the girl he was beginning to realize he could eventually love just as much, but in a different way. Both of them happy and carefree, and both of them his.


	6. Rooftops

**Overview:** _What would have happened if Wen hadn't been so anti-confrontational when Ray was bothering Olivia in the cafeteria that day?_**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> _I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the characters herein_.**  
>Special Note:<strong> _All right, this is the last chapter. Sorry that it's a bit all over the place, but I'm not really good at endings! They make me sad and...disorganized. Anyway, leave your final comments and let me know if I should write more Lemonade Mouth stories!__  
><em>**REVIEWS ARE SINCERELY APPRECIATED!**

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><p>This truly was a week of firsts for Wen. First fist fight, first heartfelt speech, first realization of strong romantic feelings, first time sharing his mixes with anyone besides his big-mouthed little sister, and now it was about to be his first time performing onstage in a band. But before that, there was one more first to get out of the way: First time in the girls' bathroom.<p>

He couldn't say that this was the most awkward first of the week, but it definitely wasn't without it's discomfort. He tried to distract himself by leaning against the black-and-orange decorated stall door (why wasn't the boys' bathroom decorated, he wondered) and speaking quietly to the blonde-haired singer on the other side. "How're you feeling, Olivia?"

"Oh, great. Super," she gasped, breathless voice echoing around the concrete room. Stella, Charlie and Mo all looked relieved to hear this, but Wen knew better. "But it's," she continued after a beat, "It's probably not the…the best idea for me to actually go out there. You know, physically." Wen had expected this. He'd spent a good chunk of time with Olivia since Wednesday, working on the new song, and he could see her growing steadily more uneasy about their upcoming performance. The night before, when the rest of the band left Wen's house and she stayed behind to run through the set list with him once more, she'd had a sudden moment of panic and spent a good five minutes dry-heaving after the keyboardist made the mistake of mentioning "the whole school watching us."

Each band member took a turn in trying to coax the singer out of the stall, but she didn't respond to any of them. It wasn't until, with barely six minutes left for them to get onstage, Wen noticed Stella's outfit addition. It was a hand-sewn zebra pouch that hung on her right hip, divided into five equal sections, each one holding a can. "What is that?" He gestured to the pouch and the guitarist smirked, proud of her clever self, and took one of the Mel's cans out.

"Pretty cool, huh?" She started to put it back before Mo's hand landed on her arm, eyes wide and hopeful. Wen's expression showed the same optimism and he reached to take the lemonade from Stella, moving back to the stall door and carefully passing it over the top.

"Olivia," he whispered, trying not to shiver when her fingers brushed his as she took the can. She continued her silence, and Wen told her, "We believe in you, okay?" Then, dropping his voice again, he pressed close enough so that only she could hear, "_I_ believe in you." There was a minute of complete silence that seemed to stretch into forever before they finally heard the telltale sound of a tab lifting, cracking the can open, and Olivia taking a long sip. A second after that, the door swung open and she gave them all an unsure - yet determined - grin. "I'm ready."

Four minutes later, they were onstage and Olivia was reciting cues, steps and lyrics in her head like they were mantras as the rest of the band situated themselves around her. When the lights came up, the crowd booed, though none louder than Ray Beech, who stood dead center in the crowd, hands cupped around his mouth. "Hey, nice costumes!" He shouted to them, "Oh, you're _not_ wearing any?" They were off to a great start.

Wen started playing the intro, but when he started through for the second time - when Olivia was meant to start singing - her voice froze in her throat and all she could do was stare out at her classmates like a proverbial deer in the headlights. "Olivia," Stella started, reaching out for the girl, but drew back when she saw Wen raise a hand to her. He cleared his throat and stepped around his keyboard, moving forward to put a hand on either of the girl's shoulders and turning her to face him.

"Hey," he said, careful to speak away from the microphone, "Are you good? Can you do this?"

"I want to," she replied, so helpless that Wen had to fight the urge to take her in his arms and hug her in front of the entire school. "I really do, but…look at all of those people, Wen."

He considered this for a moment, glancing at the crowd, and then an idea hit him. Without thinking about it, he grabbed her microphone stand with one hand and one of _her _hands with the other, leading her back to his keyboard. "Here," he said as he positioned the mic right next to where he would stand, "Just sing to me until you're comfortable, okay? Even if it takes the whole set."

"That's going to look so ridiculous," Olivia pointed out with a frown.

"To who?" Wen smirked, gesturing between the two of them, "We're the only ones here."

She blinked at him for a beat before returning the smirk and nodding. Taking this as his cue, Wen started playing again, ignoring the taunting calls that had started from the audience. When he started through the intro the second time, he heard Olivia take in a deep breath and then, with her eyes firmly locked on his, she started to sing. "_Tryin' hard to fight these tears_," she focused only on Wen's blue-green eyes, repressing the knowledge that everyone that attended Mesa High was watching her, "_I'm crazy worried_." She smiled when she noticed Wen mouthing the words along with her encouragingly. "_Messin' with my head, this fear; I'm so sorry_." It really was as if she and Wen were the only two people there, pitch black behind them and on their sides, and a blinding light in front of them. "_You know, you gotta get it out; I can take it. That's what bein' friends' about_." She reached out and laid a hand on Wen's shoulder, and the spark she felt when she touched him took her by surprise. It was like a straight bolt of electricity zigzagging from her arm to her chest, unleashing what felt like a river of adrenaline that sparked a confidence she didn't know she had. Dropping her hand, she faced the audience as the music picked up, finding the courage to sing to the sea of surprised and impressed faces.

Aside from the similar spark Wen felt in his shoulder from where she'd touched him, he also felt a surge of pride. Olivia was moving toward the front of the stage, singing, doing the steps Mo had worked out, and people were loving it. They were cheering, dancing, clapping along, all for them; all for her. Had Wen been in the audience, he would have been hollering louder than them all. And though Olivia was the one who'd had her doubts about this night, it was Wen who had to focus on not screwing up. He kept getting distracted by the way she moved, the way she gestured him forward when the bridge came, the way her hand lingered on his arm when she placed his keytar over his shoulders. He couldn't even focus on the fact that everyone seemed to _love_ them.

Then halfway through "Here We Go," when Brenigan shut off their power and charged in from stage left and Stella whispered for them to run, Wen couldn't help but reach for Olivia's hand in the darkness, closing around it and pulling her alongside him as they all made a break for stage right. Of course they knew that they would have to deal with the consequences on Monday, but they were on too much of a high to let the principal ruin their mood for the night. So Stella and Mo hitched up their instruments while Wen and Charlie abandoned theirs, and they ran. They didn't stop until they were out of the school and two blocks away, and they all collapsed into a fit of laughter on a sidewalk bench.

"Did you _see_ those kids?" Stella celebrated, gently leaning her guitar against the bench. "They were so into it; I could _feel_ them connecting to our music!"

"Forget the kids," Charlie shook his head, barely able to breathe between laughs, "Did you see Brenigan's _face_? It was, like, purple."

"I swear, I thought his head was going to spin all the way around," Mo chimed in, smiling wider than they'd ever seen her smile and plucking absently at her bass chords. Wen and Olivia both chuckled in agreement, hands still clasped tightly though neither of them realized it. "Oh, but your instruments," the bassist suddenly remembered, looking between Wen and Charlie, "Are you just going to let them sit there until Monday? Mudslide Crush will probably trash them."

Charlie was already reaching into his pocket, hardly bothered, "I'll text Lyle; he and Dawn will pack up for us if I promise to take them for pizza tomorrow." The five band members were squeezed in so tightly on the bench that the drummer had to wrestle the phone from his pocket and they were all silent as he hit a few keys and sent the message.

Stella suddenly sat forward, reaching across Mo to whack Olivia on the knee, "And how about you, Olivia? You were on fire up there tonight!"

The singer blushed and ducked her head, "Are you kidding? I freaked out and froze up."

"Yeah, but just for a second," Stella shrugged, "That's natural, ask anyone. But the way you bounced back was just…" She trailed off, waving her hands aimlessly, like she was trying to grab the right word out of thin air.

"Breathtaking," Wen offered, then silently cursed himself for how often his mouth spat out things that his mind didn't have time to approve. Fortunately, everyone seemed to agree to this description, and only Olivia had a sense of something more to it. She smiled at them all, but lingered on him, giving his hand the tiniest of squeezes before letting go. He tried not to let show his disappointment at the loss of contact; holding hands with her had felt so natural, so right.

"Thanks, guys," she told them, struggling to dislodge herself from the bench so she could stand up. She took a deep breath, getting a whiff of the cool night air, and looked around, "We're right by my house. Do you guys…maybe want to come over for a while?" She bit her lip, as if she expected them to be repelled by the idea. She seemed surprised when Mo immediately jumped to her feet.

"That would be great; I'm so not ready to go home yet."

Charlie quickly agreed, the way he always did when Mo was in favor of something, and Stella nodded as well. "I think your house is the only one we haven't been to yet," she noted thoughtfully. It was true. They spent most of their time at either her house, Wen's house, or school, but they'd had lunch with Mo's family twice and even had a band meeting at Charlie's one afternoon when his parents were out. Olivia was more reserved and liked to keep a lot of aspects of her life private; up until now, she hadn't felt close enough to the rest of the band to let them see this part of her. She couldn't explain it, but tonight had changed things.

"Is your grandma gonna be okay with you bringing four friends home at nine o'clock?" Wen asked, though he was already standing up to walk with the rest of the group. Since Brenda was Olivia's legal guardian, he figured he should probably suck up to her if he ever wanted to have anything more than friendship with-what was he _thinking_? He kept getting ahead of himself; he didn't even know if Olivia felt the same way.

The singer rolled her eyes and nodded, "I think she'll love it. She's always talking about how I never bring friends home. I mean," she backtracked quickly, "I have friends, I just never bring them home. It's sort of messy in there and…" She trailed off, biting down on her lip and picking up her pace.

When they got to the house, the living room lights were on and Brenda looked up from the TV as the five teenagers politely stepped through the door. "Oh, Olivia!" She stood to go to her granddaughter, but paused when she saw the four guests she'd brought home. "Wen, dear," she gushed, turning her attention to the keyboardist, "I was hoping we'd be seeing you again." In explanation of the "we," she gestured to the couch, where a bone-thin elderly cat was curled up.

Olivia cleared her throat, looking away for a moment before putting on a forced grin and introducing her three other friends. "We were going to hang out upstairs for a while, if that's okay," she said afterward.

"Of course, sweetheart," Brenda smiled, eyes memorizing each teenager's face. "For how long?"

Olivia looked over her shoulder at the other four, and Mo offered, "Well, my curfew is ten-thirty, but we can leave whenever you want us to."

"Oh no, it's fine, dear," the grandmother insisted, already on her way back to the couch, "Tonight was a special occasion for the five of you; you _should_ be together. I just wanted to know. Go on, now," she waved them away as she settled in next to the old cat, "Go have fun."

Olivia didn't need to be told twice; even though everyone was on perfect behavior, it was still unbearably awkward to introduce her friends to her grandmother. She turned and started up the stairs, her friends following her, and lead them into her bedroom. She stood in a corner for a second while she watched them take in her pale blue walls, her white and yellow furniture, her desk that was covered with half-finished lyrics and books of poetry. "Put your stuff down wherever," she finally told them, waving a hand around as she crossed to the window. She unlatched it and slid it open, bunching her butter-yellow curtains up and securing them with matching ribbon. "Wen," she called to the keyboardist, and he quickly turned toward her like a dog being beckoned with a treat. "Could you hand me that light?"

He followed her gaze to a little electric lantern on her dresser, picking it up and handing it to her, "What do you need that for?"

"Well, don't take this the wrong way," she addressed the whole group now, "But I'm not used to having people in my room, so we're going outside. Watch your step." Before anyone could react, she carefully lifted a leg, mindful of her skirt, and climbed out of the window and onto the roof.

Mo wrung her hands and called, "Is that safe? I mean, it's dark out."

"The roof is really wide out here," Olivia called back assuredly, "And you can see everything with the lantern on. It's safe, I promise." Cautious yet adventurous, the bassist took a deep breath and crawled out after the girl, followed closely by Charlie, Wen and Stella. Olivia hadn't been lying; there was a good ten feet separating them from the edge of the roof. "This was originally a one-story," she explained, fiddling with the brightness of the lantern, "The family that owned it before my grandparents built the second story, but they only needed two rooms so that's all they did. We're sitting over the kitchen right now."

"Cool," Stella laughed, "If we get hungry, we can just dangle Charlie upside-down and have him snatch food through the kitchen windows."

They all laughed, with the exception of Charlie, who leaned toward Mo and murmured, "Is that safe?"

Mo snorted, then covered her mouth and nose with her hand, "Charlie, she's kidding."

"Oh."

"Seriously, Charlie, you think I'd really do that?" Stella feigned offense.

Olivia smirked, "In his defense, it does sound like you."

"Can you just imagine," Mo giggled, "Stella dangling him by his feet."

"I'm bad with heights," Charlie moaned, eyeing the edge of the roof warily. "And being dangled from heights."

"Would you do it for a pudding cup?" Stella asked, eyebrows raised.

"No."

"Would you do it for a Klondike bar?" Olivia added, and they all started laughing again.

Wen, who'd been silently studying his surroundings during this whole exchange, suddenly spoke up, "I love it out here." Everyone's eyes were on him then, but he hardly noticed. He leaned back, laying down and cushioning the back of his head with his hands. "You know, we have a big house, a poolhouse, stables, and three gardens, but there's really no place at home like this for me."

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked, taking off her cardigan to use as a pillow as she laid down next to him, barely a foot separating their bodies.

He shrugged, jacket making a scratching sound against the roof, "I dunno. A place that I can just sit and think and not feel so out of control all the time. It's clear up here, you know? There's nothing crowding up the space. I dunno," he repeated, "I can't explain it."

"I think I get you," Charlie surprised them by saying as he, Stella and Mo followed suit in leaning back to stare up at the stars. "It's like you have more room to just…be you for a little while." He blushed when his band mates all went up on their elbows to stare at him, stunned. "What?" He mumbled defensively, "Just because I don't always know what's going on, doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

They all agreed to this and went back to their previous positions, letting a comfortable silence drift over them as they memorized constellations and watched the light breeze sway the branches of the tall backyard tree. "I like your grandmother," Mo said, breaking the silence, "She seems really cool. If I brought boys home - even with girls, in the middle of the day - my father would send me to an all-girls boarding school…in Antarctica."

"Well," Olivia chuckled, "Who doesn't love penguins?" Then she made a thoughtful noise and said, "Yeah, Gram is pretty cool. She's supportive and understanding, but she doesn't get out much so she has some problems relating sometimes."

Stella grinned and gave her a little nudge, "That's what you've got us for." Another pause before the guitarist asked, "How old is your grandma's cat, though? She looks like she's seen better days."

Just like that, the mood shifted. Olivia went stiff, her jaw clenched, and she cleared her throat three or four times before finally getting out the word, "Seventeen."

And once more, she had everyone's attention. "You okay?" Wen asked gently, turning his head to look at her. Her face was tensed, eyes glistening in the lantern light.

"Yeah," she nodded, though she obviously wasn't okay. "It's just," she sniffed and cleared her throat again, "She's not my grandma's cat. Um," she blinked in quick succession, but a few tears managed to slip down the side of her face despite her attempts to hold them back. "Nancy was my mom's, so she's kind of like the…last real thing I have left of her."

They all fell silent again following this admission, no one really sure of what they should say. Olivia wondered if she'd ruined the good thing they had going tonight by letting too much show; who would want to be friends with someone that fell apart over an old cat? This thought lasted only a moment, however, before she felt a pressure on her shoulder and glanced to see Stella's head there, leaning on her. "I'm so sorry," the guitarist said quietly, "I didn't know."

"Hey, Olivia?" Mo said, getting the singer's attention.

"Yeah, Mo?"

"You know you've got us, right?" She went up on her elbow to lock eyes with the girl, "I mean it; anytime you need to talk, or not talk, you can call us."

"We're here for you," Charlie added sweetly.

Olivia was so overwhelmed by her gratitude toward these friends she never expected to have that she couldn't keep back the tears that were welling in her eyes. She turned her head away from the three so they wouldn't see, remembering too late that Wen was on her other side, staring right at her. The funny thing was, she didn't feel as ashamed to let him see her cry as she thought she would. Sure, it wasn't going to win her any charm points, but she knew he wouldn't judge her for her tears. After all, he was her knight in shining armor.

She reached for him, covering his hand with hers and letting out a sigh of relief when his fingers twined through hers. He gave her one of those looks - seemingly expressionless, but with a softness to the eyes that spoke volumes - and she knew that he was telling her without words that she could cry if she needed to. But the funny thing was, she didn't want to anymore.

An hour later, all five band members stood on the front porch, saying their goodbyes. Charlie and Mo left first (because Charlie always liked to walk Mo to the end of her block), and Stella followed about ten minutes later, when she finally got an impatient call from her mother. That left just Olivia and Wen, blinking at each other in the harsh yellow brightness of the porch light. "So, um," Olivia rocked back and forth on her heels, "Thanks for everything tonight…or, this week, I guess."

"Hey," Wen laughed, shrugging, "It was all you. I was just there."

"Yeah, well," she shifted from foot to foot, "I really appreciated you being there."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grinned and, on impulse, leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead, breathing in the combination of her strawberry shampoo and her rose-scented soap. It was forward and daring and dangerous, and probably one of the best moments of his life. It was a simple gesture, not even necessarily romantic, but it sent pinpricks of heat throughout his entire body, making him feel alive and invigorated and untouchable, like he could take a tumble off of the wide roof and walk away unscathed. If this was how he felt kissing her forehead, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to kiss her lips. And maybe, just maybe, have her kiss back.

When he pulled away a few seconds later, Olivia was staring up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. _That's it_, he told himself, _You crossed a line, bonehead. You totally blew it._ But then she smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek for a brief moment before dropping her hand back to her side. "You should call me tomorrow," she suggested shyly, biting her lip, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "Maybe I could go with you to get your keyboard from Lyle or something."

"Yeah," Wen quickly agreed, then added, "And maybe afterward we could…have lunch at my place?"

Olivia smiled, going up on her toes so she could wrap him in a hug. "Definitely."

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><p><strong>AN:** _So...that's it. That's all for this one. Should I write more Lemonade Mouth stories? If you have any requests, I'd be happy to take them. Any plot or pairing, though I refuse to write Wen and Olivia with anyone but each other. Thanks for sticking with me, guys! You're all amazing!_


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Hey guys! I just wanted to let you all know that I have posted this story on my other account (/~LessListless) and that you should follow THAT account if you want to read more Lemonade Mouth stories from me, because that's where I will be posting them!

Once again, thankyou all SO MUCH for your kind words. You have made this experience amazing, and I hope you like my next stories as much as this one! *blows kisses*


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